


Flu Blues

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-12-07
Updated: 2001-12-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 13:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11127969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Ray's not feeling well.





	Flu Blues

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

  
Flu Blues

## Flu Blues

by avg_62

Disclaimer: The usual.

Author's Notes: Thanks to AuKestrel for excellent beta work and catching some "Doh!" errors.

Story Notes: Warning: Vegetable maiming

* * *

Flu Blues  
by avg_62 

Friday  
As I leave for the consulate on Friday, I kiss Ray's fevered brow and reconsider my decision to go to work. I know he's a grown man but he has been very ill these last few days. He looks so young and vulnerable with his overly red cheeks and chapped nose. 

Again last night I had to sponge him down and wrestle him into a fresh tshirt and boxers while he slept fitfully, apparently unaware of my ministrations. It's certainly proof of his illness: Ray's normally a light sleeper, and, on the nights when he does wake, I usually find myself the happy beneficiary of his romantic attentions. 

He has actually been ill since Monday, but has only agreed to stay home since he was threatened yesterday. Lieutenant Welsh had apparently become tired of the sneezes and coughs emanating from Ray's corner of the bullpen and threatened to chain him to "that mountain of paperwork he called a desk" if he didn't go home and stay home until completely recovered. He even went so far as to require a doctor's clean bill of health before he would allow Ray to return to work. 

This was fortuitous, because when Ray insisted on visiting the doctor immediately to prove he was "just fine" we discovered that he did, in fact, have the flu and was heading for a case of pneumonia. His physician said that Ray would have to stay indoors for at least a week and "take it easy" for another week beyond that. Dr. Lee made sure that I heard his instructions as well, knowing from prior experience that Ray would conveniently forget to tell me about the home restriction. 

Dr. Lee is accustomed to Ray and forestalled any argument with a simple threat. "Ray, you can either spend a week at home or a week in the hospital. Which would you prefer?" 

"Home." Ray forced the word out between clenched teeth. 

"Good choice, Ray. Come back in 14 days and we'll see about declaring you fit for duty." 

"Yeah, thanks ever so much, Doc." Ray's voice dripped with sarcasm. 

"Anytime, Ray." Dr. Lee knows how to treat his police officer patients. 

I am fascinated by this strange power Dr. Lee has over my partner. "Ray, Dr. Lee can't force you to stay in the hospital, can he?" 

"No, not really, Fraser, but he has to sign the doctor's release for Welsh, and he won't if I don't listen to him. He's got me by the balls. If he really wanted me in the hospital, I'd be wearing one of those ass-revealing patient-thingies by now. That's why he's one of the department docs. He's tough." 

"Forgive me, Ray, but if you knew this, why did you insist on seeing Dr. Lee right away?" 

"I just thought I had a little cold, Fraser, I really didn't think I was that sick." 

"I see. Well, not to worry, Ray, I'll take good care of you." 

"Yeah, thanks, Fraser." 

Tending to Ray when he is ill is not a pleasant experience. He's not a good patient and even Dief avoids him. Ray likes Dief to "snuggle" with him on the couch when I'm otherwise occupied, but insists that Dief not move or snore. Dief informed me privately, however, that he can only play dead for so long before he becomes bored. 

So bored in fact, that today I have to order him to stay with Ray. He only agrees after I tell Ray that Dief may not sleep on the couch or bed with him anymore. Each thinks the other is being punished; a misunderstanding I am loathe to correct. 

So I leave for work with very little time to spare and hope that Ray is feeling well enough to eat lunch when I come home at noon. Last night he insisted I use his car while he's ill: another sure sign of an unwell Ray. 

* * *

"I'm more than happy to walk, Ray." 

"Yeah, I'm sure you are, Frase. But you said you wanted to come home for lunch, right?" 

"Yes." 

"Well," he began, only to be interrupted by a coughing fit. "By the time you walk here and say 'Hi', you're going to have to turn right around and walk back to the consulate. Not much point in that, is there?" 

"I could take a cab." 

"FRASE..." More coughing. I seemed to have upset him. "Don't be stupid. We have a car, use it." 

I'm strangely warmed by his use of the word "we" in that sentence and smile, despite my protestations. 

"Yes, but I know the 'sheep' is special to you..." 

"GOAT, it's a Goat, Frase. You know GTO...Goat?" 

Awareness dawned. "Oh, I see...because the letters g, t and o appear in the name of the car and the word goat...that makes more sense. I didn't understand that at all, Ray." 

"Yeah, I'm kinda picking up on that, Frase. Just take the keys and drive the Goat. All you gotta do is not scratch, dent or otherwise injure my baby." 

"Well, that certainly takes the pressure off...thank you, Ray." 

"Don't mention it, Frase. That's what roomies do." 

"I'd rather do what lovers do, Ray." I whispered seductively. 

"Yeah, me too," he said, smiling back. "How about..." That's as far as he got before another coughing fit hit him. We decided to call it an evening and Ray collapsed into bed shortly after taking his medicine. 

* * *

I am tempted many times in the next four hours to call Ray and check up on him, but I know that he needs all the rest he can get. At noon sharp I leave the consulate and carefully maneuver the GTO back to the apartment, breathing a sigh of relief as I park. So far, so good. I haven't even scratched the paint on Ray's precious "baby." 

As I come in the front door I hear the pathetic sounds Ray makes when he needs something but can't yet drag himself out of bed. He grunts and groans, sounding remarkably like he did after his sparring match with Mason Dixon. I rush over to help him lie down again. I quiet him as he begins to protest. 

"It's all right, Ray, just let me help you, I'll get whatever you need." I easily wrestle him down to a supine position; perhaps I should have stayed home. 

"Damnit, Fraser...," he begins. 

I'm irritated and cut him off less than politely. "Ray, I don't mind helping you when you're ill. I don't think you're less of a man for needing help." 

"Well, thank you kindly, Frase," Ray forces past his snarl, "but I was getting up to use the bathroom. So unless you can do that for me, I'll need to get up again." 

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ray, you might have said, I'm not able to read your mind." I reach to help him up again. 

"Outtatheway," he growls at me and I find myself backing quickly away from him. With a long-suffering sigh and one hand on his head, Ray makes his way to the bathroom and closes the door. 

I wait fearfully for the sound of him falling to the floor, which doesn't come. He returns still holding his head. 

"Do you want some aspirin, Ray?" 

"No, I want some of that cold medicine. It tastes bad, but at least it helps me sleep." 

I dissolve the tablets in water and Ray drinks the fizzing concoction. I've never had occasion to need medicine, and I'm not sure I could manage to drink something that...active. The moment I think that, I think about the "active" things I will put in my mouth and I'm immediately aroused. 

Ray, oddly enough, does not seem to be in the mood. 

Indeed, he has not been in the mood for three days and I find myself uncomfortably aroused almost every time I think of him. Strangely, the years of careful discipline before I became Ray's lover seem wasted now...I simply cannot control myself in his presence, ill or not. 

I take the glass from him as he finishes his medicine and hug him fiercely. "I missed you today, Ray." I kiss him lightly on the lips. "I worried about you all morning and found it difficult to concentrate on my work. Even Turnbull looked competent next to me." 

"I'm fine, Frase," he says, as he gently pushes me away. "You don't have to fuss at me." 

"I don't mean to fuss. I can't help it if I worry." I'm sure I sound pathetic. 

"It's OK, Frase," he sighs. "I'm just sick and tired of being sick and tired." 

"Perhaps some soup and crackers will help you feel better." 

"Yeah, OK, but not the kind with the stars. I want the kind with real noodles." 

"Right you are, Ray," I agree, although except for shape I can find no difference between the pasta stars and the pasta noodles in Ray's favorite soups. 

I warm a pan of chicken noodle soup and retrieve a box of fish-shaped crackers that Ray insists he must have when he eats soup. We had a short...discussion...about the crackers before last night's meal. 

* * *

"No, Frase," Ray began before even sitting down at the table. "I need soup crackers with my soup." 

"Surely a cracker is a cracker, Ray," I replied, eyeing the soda crackers I had arranged on a plate. I too remained standing. 

"Fraser, that's where you are wrong. There are cheese-and-crackers crackers and there are soup crackers. Cheese-and-crackers crackers are square and meant to be held easily in your hand," he said, pointing at the plate, "while soup crackers are small and fish-shaped so that they fit easily into your soup bowl. They also have the fun side effect of turning said soup bowl into an aquarium." 

At this juncture, I realized the potential for disaster...perhaps I should have waited to tidy up the kitchen. 

"Fish-shaped?" I echoed back at Ray, trying, and apparently failing, to project my innocent look. 

"Yeah, Frase," he answered, his eyes suddenly suspicious, "fishshaped... like little fish, know what I mean?" 

"Ah..." I said, stalling brilliantly. 

"What does that mean, Fraser?" Ray narrowed his eyes to nothing more than slits. "Why are you rubbing your eyebrow?" 

I snatched my hand back from my face as if I'd been scalded. "Well...I...That is to say..." 

"What, Fraser, just spit it out, I hate it when you..." His voice trailed off as his eyes widened slightly in understanding. Moments passed. I could hear my own traitorous heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. 

"You've been cleaning the kitchen, haven't you, Ben?" He said this last with his best interrogation-room snarl, as if I were a suspect accused of murder. 

I could feel my face heat up and at that moment I wished that I had something as trivial as homicide on my conscience. 

"Well...I was tidying up a little and...You know, Ray, it really is dangerous to keep products beyond the 'freshness ensured date'...," I stammered, hoping in vain to deflect the conversation away from cracker fish. 

"No, Ben," Ray growled, "do not even try that with me. Just answer this question: did you or did you not throw out my soup crackers?" 

"Ah, that would be the fish-shaped crackers in the cupboard above the refrigerator?" I said, stalling again. 

He leaned over the table abruptly. I flinched. "Yes, Fraser. Did you or did you not throw out my fish-shaped soup crackers that were located in a box that was located in the cupboard that is located above the refrigerator?" 

I squirmed, unable to look away, he had me bang to rights...he knows I won't lie. "Yes," I whispered. 

"Damnit, Fraser," he spluttered, yelling, "I just bought those crackers!" 

"I hardly think so, Ray," I began, pleading my case and wiping my face. "They were well past their freshness date and they were stale. Even Diefenbaker didn't want them." 

I belatedly recognized yet another tactical error on my part as Ray leaned in even further and clenched his fists into my shirt. 

"You tried to feed my fish crackers to the furball?" "Perhaps I should drive to the market and buy a new box of cracker fish?" I squeaked. 

"Perhaps you should buy three," he growled. 

"Right you are, Ray." I turned as soon as he let me and ran for the front door, collecting the car keys on the way. 

The local market stocks three different flavors of cracker fish, so we now have nine boxes of Ray's soup crackers in the house. 

* * *

The soup is ready and as I turn to call Ray, I see him lurching to the table. I don't think he can smell the soup in his condition, but I believe that someone who eats as infrequently as Ray does has probably developed a sixth sense regarding the availability of prepared food. 

He smiles up at me as I place a bowl of soup in front of him. I can't help but smile back and I'm once again struck by how young he looks when he's ill. It takes all my self control not to reach out and ruffle his hair, but I'm wary of his mercurial moods, now exacerbated by illness. 

Next on the table are three boxes of cracker fish and a glass of milk. 

Ray eyes the boxes carefully - no doubt debating which flavor goes best with chicken noodle soup - and finally chooses parmesan as the fish cracker du jour. 

"Hey, Frase," Ray calls out as I return from the kitchen with my own soup. 

"Yes, Ray?" 

"Have you ever seen an Esther Williams film?" 

"Yes, I have, I believe we were living in Yellowknife at the time..." 

"Well, watch this!" Ray interrupts. He takes a fish cracker, balances it on his spoon and then drops the fish into his soup from approximately 20 centimeters above his bowl. The cracker disappears into the soup briefly and then surfaces. 

"Ta Daa!" 

"Impressive, Ray." 

"Thank you, Fraser, although to do it right, I'd need a ring of fire on the top of the soup...hey, we don't have any lighter fluid, do we?" 

I shudder mentally at the thought of having to explain to fire investigators just how the apartment building burned down. "No, Ray, we don't. Besides, I think it would leave a bad taste in the soup, even after it burns off." 

"Oh." Ray proceeds to launch a dozen more Esther Williams impersonators into his soup and then settles down to eat. 

"Ray, are you feeling better? You look much better than when I came in." 

"Well, I was grumpy from waking up, but now that I've had the cold medicine I'm feeling a little better. My headache is fading fast." Another warm smile. 

We eat in companionable silence. 

"I'm glad you're feeling better, Ray. I'm certain a couple of days bed rest will ensure a complete recovery." 

"Yeah," he says finishing his soup and milk, "but I'm kinda tired again already. I'm going to go back to bed." 

"Do you need anything before I return to the consulate?" 

"Nah, Ben, I'm just gonna sleep and maybe watch some TV later." 

"Should I pick anything up for you on the way home from work?" 

"Well, maybe some rod magazines." 

"What?" I say, choking on my last spoonful of soup. 

"You know, Fraser, hot rod magazines. I need to keep up on the classic car scene." He says this last innocently enough. I believe our recent abstinence has affected me more than I had imagined. 

"Frase," Ray asks, "what did you think I meant?" 

"Nothing, Ray, I just didn't hear what you had said." My face feels like it's glowing. "I'll stop by the market and pick up the magazines on my way home. What would you like for dinner, Ray?" 

"Everything tastes pretty much the same, Frase. Just bring home something you want." 

"I'll do that, and I'll see you at 6:30, all right?" I stand up to clear away the dishes as Ray heads back to bed. 

"See you tonight, Frase." 

I follow him into the bedroom and make sure he has what he needs. I give in to my impulse to ruffle his hair and then tuck the blankets around him, kissing him. "I love you, Ray." 

"And I you." It's a near perfect imitation of my usual reply and it makes me smile. 

He seems to be asleep before I even leave the room. 

Saturday  
Unusually, I sleep until 8 a.m. when Diefenbaker wakes me. It takes a quiet whine and a gusty lupine sigh in my ear to rouse me. I must have been more tired than I imagined. And Ray's condition still has me waking frequently in the night. 

"Dief, I don't want to leave Ray too long, in case he should need me, so we can only manage a quick walk this morning." 

Dief grumbles a bit, but he understands that Ray is still quite ill and even Dief's bad manners stop short at taking time from an invalid. 

"Thank you for your understanding. Later we'll go to the park and perhaps find a hot dog for you, all right?" I know it's not good for him, but at least it is meat...after a fashion. 

Dief nudges my hand in silent acknowledgement of my promise and gives me a lick on the chin. 

We're only gone for half an hour but when we return I find Ray sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and enjoying a cup of coffee from the pot I made. "How are you feeling, Ray?" 

"Better, but still kinda out of it. I'm hungry, though, are you going to make breakfast or should I have some cereal?" 

I know he's trying to manipulate me, but he's ill, so I indulge him. "Cereal?" I begin my rant. "Ray, the only cereal we have in the house is loaded with sugar and not much else. In fact it bears only a passing resemblance to anything that could be considered a true cereal!" 

"I know, Fraser," and now he adds his pitiful Ray look to the mix, "it's just that I'm feeling hungry and I know you've been taking care of me and I didn't want you to have to work too hard on your weekend..." 

That does it. "Ray," I say, sliding down to join him on the couch. "I am honored to be able to share your life, including the less than ideal times." I wrap my arms around him, effectively trapping him in his blanket cocoon. "And I'm more than willing to look after you when you're ill." I nuzzle his neck and he sighs and leans further into my embrace. "And," I pause dramatically, "I'm beginning to learn when you're playing me like one of those 'sport fish,' as you so colorfully put it." I bite down on his earlobe and am rewarded with a wounded little squeal. I tighten my grasp as Ray begins to struggle, as he only now realizes that he is trapped. He squirms uselessly for a minute or two. 

"Fraser, Frase...let me go!" He's exhausted, from just that bit of roughhousing and I feel a twinge of guilt. 

"Of course, Ray, you only had to ask." I smirk at him and let him go. He looks up at me and narrows his eyes. 

"You can be mean when you want to, Fraser." 

"I'm well aware of that, Ray." I get up and go to the kitchen to make pancakes. Today we'll have my favorite. 

After washing the breakfast dishes, I turn to deal with a task that I admit I have been avoiding. 

I approach my quarry warily and, unusually, from upwind. "Ray?" 

"Hunh?" Ray looks up from his magazine, apparently enthralled by an article about camshafts. 

I try my cheerful voice. "It's pretty warm today and you're looking a little better than yesterday." 

"Yeah, so? The doc said I couldn't go out and I know you won't let me." Ray gives me an irritated look. "Are you teasing me again? Because that's very cruel and un-Mountie like...teasing a sick man. I didn't realize you had such a mean streak in you, Frase." 

"I wasn't teasing you, Ray. But you're right about one thing, I'm not letting you leave the apartment until next weekend and only then if you're well enough. But...well, I was thinking..." My voice grinds to a halt as I am unsure how to phrase my next request delicately. 

"What? What do you want? C'mon, Frase, just because I'm a captive audience doesn't mean I have the patience to wait for you to spit it out." 

Right, then, so much for delicacy. "Well, Ray, not to put too fine a point on it, your personal odor leaves something to be... well, to be frank, Ray, between your sweating bouts and the medicine, your bodily... Well, let's just say I was hoping to talk you into taking a shower and putting on some clean clothes today." A low whine from the floor echoes my sentiment as Diefenbaker puts his ears back and looks pointedly in Ray's direction. 

"Oh." Ray pulls the neck of his sweatshirt up over his nose and inhales deeply, then looks back at us. "I'm sorry, guys. I can't smell anything, so I missed the usual signs...you know, like watering eyes and such." Ray sounds chagrined. 

"So, you'd be willing to shower, Ray?" 

"Yeah, I guess. I'm a little worried about having a relapse though. I don't think I want to be stuck in the apartment longer than a week." 

"Not to worry, Ray, I've thought about it and I think we can ensure a safe shower and a return to fresh air in the apartment." 

"Oh really, you've thought about it?" Ray laughs. "That's a surprise. Well you'd better tell me the game plan so I know what to do." 

"It's quite simple, Ray." I slip into what Ray calls "lecture mode." "First, I'll place the space heater in the bathroom to bring the temperature in there up a bit. Then, I'll help you in there and while you're getting ready, I'll open the windows in the rest of the apartment to allow the breeze in." 

"OK, gotcha so far." 

"Then, I'll return to the bathroom and help you with your shower." 

"Hmmm, that sounds good..." He gives me a lascivious grin. 

'To you and me both, bucko,' I think. "When we've finished your shower I'll help you dry off and get you into some clean clothes." 

"Yeah, I'm sure I'm gonna need help with that." Ray grins and winks at me. I feel a twitch in my groin and nearly groan. 

"And then," I manage not to growl, "I'll close the windows in the bedroom and get you into bed for some rest and take that time to do some laundry. By the time you're finished with your nap..." Ray holds up a warning hand. "I mean, your rest, the laundry should be finished and the apartment aired." 

"Um, OK, Frase, sounds good to me. Especially if you and Dief'll be happier." 

My relieved "We would indeed," is echoed by a bark from Diefenbaker. 

Ray laughs, "Yeah, yeah, furball, I get it. Thanks for putting up with me." Dief yips and runs to Ray to give him a playful lick on the face. "Gaah! Stop it, Dief, I can take my own shower!" 

"Right, then, you continue with your article, Ray, and I'll call you when the bathroom is up to temperature." 

"OK." 

I prepare the bathroom and call for Ray. Leaving him to it for the moment, I open the windows in the apartment and the breeze begins to work wonders immediately. Dief puts his snout on the windowsill and gives a happy sigh; I think a bit of spring fever has affected us all. 

I join Ray in the bathroom and quickly strip down. He's taking his time, trying to excite me, I think, although he may just be tired. As the water warms, a pleasant mist fills the tiny room and Ray begins to breathe a little easier, which seems to revitalize him a bit. 

We step into the shower and Ray groans as the water courses over his body. "Ummm, God that feels good." 

"You're not too cold anywhere, Ray?" 

"Nah, Frase, it feels good. Wanna wash my hair?" He knows it's one of my favorite activities. 

"Which shampoo would you like me to use?" 

"Um, use that one that smells like flowers, in the green bottle." 

"Right you are, Ray." I pour a generous amount on my hands and massage it into his hair and scalp. He puts his hands on the shower wall and hums a happy tune. It takes all of my control not to tackle him to the floor of the tub and make love to him. 

"Ray, I'm going to have to shampoo your hair twice today, it's been a while." 

"...hmmm, sure Frase, whatever..." I think he's nearly asleep on his feet. As I take down the showerhead and carefully rinse his hair, he doesn't move. Pouring more shampoo into my hands I begin the second round of hair washing. The only proof I have that Ray is still awake is his continuing humming. I rinse his head for a second time. 

"Ray, I need you to turn around so I can soap you up, all right?" 

"Hmmm?" It seems that Ray actually was humming in his sleep. But I was prepared for this eventuality. I step out of the shower to retrieve the small kitchen stool I placed there earlier. 

"Here, Ray, sit on this." I pull him gently down onto the stool. 

"OK...sorry, I'm kinda more tired than I thought. And the shower feels great." His words are sleep-slurred. 

"Not to worry, Ray, I'm here, I'll help you finish up." 

"OK." He hasn't opened his eyes since I started washing his hair. I soap up a washcloth and quickly finish Ray's shower. He doesn't even flinch when I clean his genitals, although I do get a satisfied sounding hum when I lift him and gently wash his anus. One last rinse and he's clean. 

"Ray? Ray?" 

"Hmmm, Frase?" 

"You're clean and the water is turning a bit cold, so let's get you dried off and into bed." 

"Right you are, Fraser." His eyes struggle to half-mast and he smiles seductively. "I can't wait to get into bed." 

"Now who's being cruel, Ray?" 

"What? Don't you want to play, Fraser?" 

"You know I do, Ray, but I don't think you're up for it, do you?" 

He looks down at his flaccid penis...staring at it as if willing it to respond. "Oh man," he says, "talk about your major disappointments. Sorry, Frase." 

"That's OK, Ray, I had my shower earlier." I finish towelling him and hand him a clean pair of shorts. 

"So, took things in hand, did you, Constable?" He leans on me to step into his boxers. 

I feel the blush all the way to the crown of my head. "Yes, Ray," I reply as I hand him socks and a t-shirt. " I didn't think you would want to indulge me today." 

"I'd like to, Frase, you know, the spirit is willing, but the flesh seems to be comatose." He pulls on the t-shirt and sits on the toilet to put on the socks. 

"That's quite all right, I'll be happy to take a raincheck," I answer as I apply the hair dryer to Ray's unruly mop. 

"Ummm, 's nice Fraser," he purrs, closing his eyes again. 

"Would you like gel in your hair today?" 

"Nah, Frase, nobody's gonna see it except you and Dief." 

"As you wish." I finish Ray's hair and leave him sitting on the toilet while I close the windows in the bedroom. "Would you like to take some aspirin or cold medicine before your rest, Ray?" I call to him. 

"No, I think I'm whacked enough to sleep good. I'll take some after dinner." I return to find him yawning and hugging himself. 

"You're not catching a chill, are you, Ray?" 

"No, Fraser," his voice is spiked with irritation, "I'm tired, just let me get to bed and I'll be fine." 

I settle Ray in bed and kiss him gently before returning to the bathroom to air it out and collect the laundry. It looks as if we have at least two loads, so I pick up the laundry basket, the latest RCMP Quarterly and head for the basement. I'm in luck today: two machines are available so I'll be able to run simultaneous loads. 

At first I felt self-conscious about doing that, but Ray has taught me what he calls the "rules of laundry." And as there is a third machine also available, I refuse to feel guilty as I push the quarters into both machines. 

I wish that I could return to the apartment to keep an eye on Ray, but every machine in the laundry room is subject to stalling halfway through the wash cycle. I learned to my regret that leaving the machines on their own has a tendency to produce a flood of soapy water. So I settle in the chair to read and keep a careful eye on the laundry. 

Naturally, since I am here and watching like a hawk, the machines cycle through without a hitch. Ray has also explained his reasoning for this phenomenon, but I find it hard to believe that there is a malevolent force behind the manufacture of washing machines. However, I am also unable to prove him wrong. 

I return to the apartment and find Ray just waking. He is tousled and beautiful, his eyes half open and not quite aware. I set the laundry aside and sit next to him on the bed, slipping my arms around him. He snuggles down into my embrace, perhaps thinking about falling back to sleep. 

"Ray?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Are you still sleepy or would you like some lunch?" 

"Mmm...sleepy." He yawns to emphasize his point. 

"Well, why don't you lie back down and I'll take Diefenbaker for a walk. When we get back I'll make lunch. How does that sound?" 

"OK," he mumbles into my chest. I carefully lower him to his pillow and he is asleep almost immediately. 

I tuck Ray back in and quietly leave the room. 

Dief meets me at the door with a question. 

"Yes, we are free for about an hour, should we go to the park?" 

He reminds me of our hot-dog bargain. 

"I remember. We'll have our walk first and then perhaps we could bring some hotdogs home for everyone's lunch, what do you think?" 

A soft wuff of agreement from Dief and he runs to the front door. 

So, for the first time in a few days, Dief and I get some much needed exercise, even playing a quick game of "chase me" before purchasing hotdogs and heading back to the apartment. 

"Ray?" 

"In here," he calls from the bedroom. 

I set the bag on the kitchen counter and walk back to the bedroom. 

"Are you feeling better, Ray?" He's still in bed, but reading his magazine. 

"Yeah, I just didn't want to get out of bed yet. I think my fever went down a little." 

I walk to the bed and check his forehead. "You're still a bit warm, but I think it has gone down. Are you hungry?" 

"Yeah, what kind of soup are you making?" 

"Well, Diefenbaker thought you might appreciate a change of pace, so we bought hotdogs while we were in the park." 

Ray's eyes light up. "Hot-dogs! Cool, Dief!" 

Dief barks happily. 

Ray seems content to spend the rest of the day snuggling with me on the couch and watching television. I must admit that I need the rest: I had no idea that taking care of Ray would be so draining. 

Sunday  
Another day off is welcome, I realize, after sleeping in again. It's not often that Diefenbaker has to wake me, and he seems to be enjoying that fact entirely too much. 

Ray is certainly accustomed to his invalid routine. He finds remaining in bed no hardship as I get up to walk Diefenbaker. Our path takes us past the local bakery, and before I can prevent it, Dief is given a doughnut hole. I know better than to complain, it simply does no good and it's at least better than an entire doughnut. 

"Constable Fraser," calls Debbie, "come on in, I won't bite!" 

Laughing, I enter the bakery. "Good morning, Debbie, how are you today?" I am able to relax around Debbie who, unlike most women I meet, doesn't seem to want me. I don't know why, really, but it is a refreshing change. I remind myself to ask Ray about that later. 

"I'm fine," she smiles at me. "Where's that shifty roommate of yours? I haven't seen him for a while...what'd he do, catch pneumonia?" 

"I'm afraid you're closer to the truth than I'd like. Ray's been sick with a flu and was very near pneumonia according to Dr. Lee." 

"I figured as much. Last time he was here I had to make him stand in the corner. Nobody buys doughnuts when they see a guy coughing and sneezing in the place." 

We both laugh. I can just imagine Ray standing in the corner like a naughty schoolboy, ordering doughnuts for the station. "He never mentioned that to me," I say, grinning. "I'll have to bring that up when I get home." 

"Don't you dare, Constable!" she says aghast. "If Ray finds out I told you I'll never hear the end of it!" 

"Don't worry, Debbie, I would never break a confidence." 

"You'd better not!" she winks at me. "Are you here for Ray's Sunday usual?" 

"Yes, please. And perhaps something for dessert for this evening. Ray's lost a little weight since he's been ill." 

"That's one thing that boy doesn't need!" she says vehemently. "Let's see...we have your basic stuff, you know, apple pies and such. Oh, wait a minute...I'll be right back." 

Two minutes later Debbie returns wearing oven gloves and carrying a pan. "You're in luck today, Constable. Erik just pulled this strudel out of the oven." 

"It doesn't smell like a typical strudel," I say, my surprise causing me to forget my manners. 

"Good nose! It's not your average apple-type strudel, it's cherry." 

"It smells wonderful." I catch myself salivating. "I'm sure Ray will love it. Could you add one to my order, please?" 

"Sure. Just remember to open the box when you get home so it can breathe, it's still pretty warm." 

"I will. And how should I warm it for dessert?" 

"Well, you could nuke it." Ray has taught me that this means using the microwave to warm food and I pull a face at the idea. 

"Or, the best way is to warm it in the oven on a low heat for about 30 minutes." 

"Ah, right, I think I can manage that. Thank you kindly, Debbie." 

"You're welcome. Tell Ray I hope he gets well soon." 

I promise to tell Ray as Debbie "accidentally" drops another doughnut hole in front of Dief. It's snatched from the air by an apparently practiced set of lupine jaws. I sigh, shaking my head at Dief as we leave the bakery. 

"I'm home, Ray." 

"Hi, Frase, did you go to the bakery?" 

So, his olfactory senses are still offline, as it were. "Yes, I got your Sunday usual and Debbie says 'Hi and get well soon.'" 

"That's sweet." He sees the box as he reaches in for his pastry. "Hey, what else did you get? It's warm!" 

"Yes, I thought it would be nice to get something for dessert and Debbie recommended the cherry strudel; it's literally fresh from the oven." 

"Cool! Let's have it now, while it's still warm!" 

"Ray, I..." I say reflexively, but I can actually think of no reason why Ray shouldn't have this instead of his usual bearclaw. If anything, the cherries in the strudel offer a somewhat higher nutrition factor. "I'll get the plates." 

"Get three, Frase, Dief should get some too." A bark of agreement meets this remark. 

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Ray, he's had two doughnut holes already." 

"Only two, huh? I guess Debbie's hand-eye coordination is getting better." 

"Does he usually have more than two when you visit the bakery?" My gaze shifts between the two of them. Diefenbaker puts his ears back and glares at Ray. Ray suddenly chooses to exercise his right to silence. 

"Right, well I think that Dief should stop worrying about strudel and count himself lucky that he isn't running laps in the park right now." I take two plates from the cupboard. 

Grumbling that he doesn't like cherries anyway, Diefenbaker crawls under the table to pout as I serve up the strudel. 

"Ow, ow, ow..." Ray has taken a bite without blowing on it to cool it. Before I can pour him a glass, he reaches for the milk and drinks from the carton. 

"Ray..." 

"Don't start with me, Frase," he says after he swallows, "I've seen you sneaking a drink out of the carton before." 

"Yes, well, that may be true, but I was trying to remind you that the strudel is very warm and cherries hold a lot of residual heat." 

"Oh...thanks for the heads up there." 

We spend the rest of the day lounging and watching television. I manage to get most of the ironing done, leaving my boxer shorts for later. I don't have the energy for doing much else. 

Monday  
Ray sleeps well through the night and without needing a change of bedwear. I think the rest has started to work. I don't feel quite so bad leaving for the consulate this morning. 

"Sleep well, Ray, I'll see you at lunch time." I bend to give him a kiss and feel his forehead. There's definite improvement there. 

"Mmmm...bye, Frase. Love you." 

"And I you." 

Preparations for the inter-consulate meetings on Friday keep my thoughts occupied during the morning. I'm surprised to hear the clock chime noon and quickly make my way to the parking lot and home. 

"Ray?" 

"Hi, Frase. How's work?" 

"Fine, fine. The meeting on Friday should go off without a stitch." I can't help but notice that many of Ray's CDs are laid out on the coffee table. 

"That's hitch, not stitch." 

"Right, right...without a hitch, sorry." I gesture at the CDs. " What are you doing, Ray?" 

"Oh, I'm looking for an old CD. I think I might have loaned it out to somebody and never got it back. But just in case, I thought I'd look through all my CDs. Maybe organize them too." 

I move to the kitchen and open a can of cream of mushroom soup. "That sounds like quite a project, Ray. Are you sure you're feeling up to it?" 

Ray joins me in the kitchen. "Yeah, sure. Not much on TV anyway. I can only watch so many soaps before I freak out. It's kinda like watching the Twilight Zone marathon, you know? After a while you keep expecting to see tiny little spacemen in the kitchen." 

I have no idea what Ray is talking about, so I change the subject. "Yes, well, I hope you're successful in your quest. Perhaps I can help you when I come home this evening." 

"Um...I'd like that, Frase, but it's not a job for amateurs." He notices the disappointment I fail to keep out of my expression. "Besides, you're busy enough taking care of me. Don't worry, Ben, I'll be able to handle it." 

I concentrate on stirring the soup. "Well, if you can't find the CD you're looking for, perhaps I could purchase a replacement for you on the way home." 

"That would be good, I'll let you know if it gets that far, OK?" He sets the table and puts the milk and fish crackers out. 

"I'll wait for your call then." I ladle up the soup and we both walk carefully to the table. 

"So, you're feeling better then?" 

"Yeah, the Fraser miracle cure seems to be working," he says with a grin and a wink. 

"It's not a miracle, it's just common sense. You need to rest when you're ill." 

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm feeling a lot better." 

"Good." 

We chat about the weather and other mundane subjects while we eat. It seems as if we rarely get the chance to have a normal conversation during our meals. We are almost always discussing one of our cases. I take the empty bowls and glasses to the kitchen sink and rinse them thoroughly. 

"So, what are you cooking for dinner, Frase?" Ray puts the fish back in the cupboard. 

"I was thinking about chicken filets, creamed corn and rice pilaf. How does that sound?" 

"OK, except yuck on the creamed corn. I know you love that stuff, but can't I have something else?" 

I knew this was coming. Ray seems to have a vegetable phobia. "Ray, vegetables are very important to a balanced diet. It's crucial that you eat them to maintain your health." 

"I know, Fraser. But creamed corn is disgusting. It's bad enough having to watch you eat it, can't I have something else?" The whine in his voice irritates me. 

"Like pickled beets? Or Brussels sprouts?" 

Ray's face twists into a snarl. "Hardy ha ha, Fraser. Just get me some regular corn and I'll eat that." 

"As you wish. I'll be home at 6:30, I'll see you then." I kiss Ray deeply and he respond in a manner almost guaranteed to make me late to the consulate. 

"Oops. Sorry, Frase. Just a natural reaction there," he says sheepishly as I gently unpeel him from around my body. 

"That's quite all right, Ray. See you tonight." 

"Yeah, tonight. Love you." 

"And I you." 

I reflect on the fact that Ray has no difficulty telling me he loves me, something I have always had difficulty expressing. I found it disquieting at first, but when I asked him about it, his explanation helped me understand. 

"Ben, for eleven years my dad didn't speak to me. Just because I wanted to be a cop. For years, I couldn't think about him without hearing those ugly words he said. I thought they would be the last words he would ever say to me. So I just want to make sure that if anything happens to one of us that the last thing you heard me say was that I love you. I love you, Ben." 

He hugged me then, knowing that I wouldn't be able to speak to him through my tears. I remembered the last conversation I had with my father...when he was alive at least. My reluctance to ask him what was wrong and my regrets afterwards haunted me for a long time. I think Ray has the right idea. So now I also tell him as often as I can. "I love you, Ray." 

I return to the apartment after a quick stop at the market and bring both creamed and plain corn for dinner. The CD-spill on the coffee table has grown, taking over every available surface in the living room including the dining table. "Ray? I'm home." 

"Hi, Frase. Missed you." He hugs me warmly and pecks me on the cheek. "Hey, can you bring some sticky notes home tomorrow at lunch time?" 

"Of course, I'll stop by the stationers on the way home. How many do you need?" 

"Well, I found the CD I was looking for, so I guess I got it back after all. And then I decided to reorganize my CDs since they were already out. So I started to label every CD for every category it could fit into and I thought sticky notes would be perfect for that. But I ran out, so I need some more to finish the job." 

"Ah, I see, so the square ones are large enough?" 

"Yeah, those'll do." 

"I'll pick them up tomorrow." 

"Thanks, Frase." 

I kiss him quickly and move into the bedroom to change clothes. At least there are no CDs in the bedroom...yet. 

"Ray, could you please clear a space on the table for dinner?" I call from the bedroom. "It should be ready in about forty minutes." 

"Sure, Frase." 

Ray is moving stacks of CDs from the dining table to the floor behind the couch. "Be careful here, Fraser, these are in the right order at the moment." 

"I'll be careful, Ray." 

We enjoy our dinner and settle on the couch with hot chocolate and tea. Another quiet evening ensues and I manage to get my shorts ironed as well. I imagine I could get used to the quiet home life. 

Tuesday  
This morning, actually just before lunch, Ray calls me at the consulate. 

"Canadian Consulate..." 

"Yeah, Frase, I know where and who I'm calling." 

"Hi, Ray, how are you feeling?" 

"I'm fine, but could you stop by the hardware store on your way home for lunch?" 

"Certainly, Ray," I reply. "What do you need?" I vainly hope that Ray is planning a home improvement project of some kind. 

"I need some plaster for patching a wall," he says, dashing my hopes. "Just tell the guy you want enough to patch about a square foot of interior wall. That shouldn't cost more than five bucks or so." 

"Why do you need to patch a wall, Ray? Did you injure yourself?" 

"Nah, Frase, just your basic home accident. Nobody got hurt." 

"I see. Do you still require the extra sticky notes?" 

"Um, yeah, I still need those too." Ray's sheepish tone tells me that he was probably not working on his great CD organization project when he had his hole-creating accident. 

"Do you think that one of these items could wait until after work, Ray? I would be hard-pressed for time if I had to stop at two stores and still come home for lunch." 

"Why can't you stop at the hardware store and just steal the stickies from work?" 

I can feel my indignation fan out around me like the hood of a cobra. "Ray! You know pilfering office supplies for personal use is a crime! I could lose my position, I would be shamed, I...I...I can hear you giggling, Ray." 

"I was just yanking your chain, Frase." 

"Very funny, Ray. Just for that I won't go to either store, and when I get home I'm going to handcuff you to the bed to keep you from causing further trouble." 

"That sounds good to me!" 

"Ray..." I have to close my eyes to fight the sudden arousal Ray's reply invokes in me. "You're incorrigible." 

"I'm sorry, Frase. I'll be good." He's trying to sound contrite, but I can still hear the grin in his voice. "I guess you should get the sticky notes first, then I can finish sorting the CDs." 

"All right, I accept your apology. I'll see you in about 30 minutes." 

"OK, love you." 

"And I you." 

I return to the apartment at 12:20 bearing a pack of sticky notes for Ray and two pink erasers for myself. Ray is on the couch wrapped in a blanket watching television without the sound and listening to a song about wearing sunglasses at night. 

"Ray? How are you feeling?" 

"I'm tired, Frase, but I'm feeling better." 

"That's good," I say as I lean over the back of the couch and feel his forehead. "You aren't as warm as you've been. Would you like some soup?" 

"Yeah, that'd be good. Did you get the sticky notes?" 

"Yes, I bought a large pack, I hope that's enough for your project," I say as I hand him the bag. 

"Yeah, that ought to do it. Hey, don't forget your chew toys, Frase." He hands me the erasers with a wink and a grin. 

"Yes, thank you, Ray." I grin back, my face turning red. So far, only Ray and I know why there are so many erasers in my desk drawer. 

"How about tomato soup today, Ray?" I ask as I head for the kitchen. 

"That sounds good. I think the cheddar fish would go best with that," he calls from the couch. 

"Right you are." 

I refrain from asking Ray about the hole in the wall. I know he's waiting for me to ask, but I can't help prolonging his agony a bit. It's cruel, but also enjoyable, to watch him fidget. 

"Soup's ready, Ray" I say as I place a bowl of soup on the table with his fish crackers and a glass of milk. 

"Ummm, smells good. I was getting kinda tired of chicken." 

"I can imagine a change is welcome. But soup is the easiest thing to prepare for lunch." 

"Sandwiches would be easier." 

"True, but I was speaking of warm food." 

"Oh." Ray enjoys his soup in silence for nearly a minute. 

"You could get some burgers or something on your way home. That would be warm and fast." 

"Yes, but I was also speaking of nutritious food." 

"Oh." 

"Perhaps tomorrow we could have grilled cheese sandwiches with the soup. I should have enough time if I don't need to stop at the store." 

"That'd be nice. What are you going to make for dinner tonight?" 

"I'm not sure, Ray, do you have any preferences?" 

"Yeah, I was thinking that we could get Chinese. It's fast, hot and nutritious, right? And you could probably use a break from the kitchen, don't you think?" 

I can think of no argument against Ray's suggestion and indeed, it would be nice to take a break from kitchen duty. "That's a good suggestion, Ray. Can I leave it with you to place the order? I should be home by 6:30, after I stop at the hardware store." 

"Right, right. Don't forget that it's plaster repair for an inside wall." I can see him expecting me to ask him about the accident. But it has become a battle of wills and we both know it. 

"Yes, Ray, I've made a note of it and I'll make sure the clerk understands." 

I can sense his disappointment that I haven't asked and also his own stubborn resolve not to mention the accident. "OK, I'll work on the CDs this afternoon." 

"Try to get some rest as well, Ray, you're still ill, you know." 

"Yeah, yeah, I'll call for Chinese and have it here by 6:30, AND I'll have a rest. Love you, Ben." He doesn't use the diminutive of my name often, but it warms my heart when he does. 

"And I you, Ray." 

Later that afternoon, I answer my phone at the consulate. Before I can speak, Ray begins talking. 

"Hey, Frase, it's me." 

"Hello, Ray, are you feeling all right?" 

"Yeah, Frase. I'm good." He sighs heavily. 

I recognize that sound. Ray needs something. "Do you need me to pick up something more, Ray?" 

"Yeah, well no, not really, just more of that wall stuff. I've had another accident." 

I sigh in my turn. Things had been going well for the past four hours. My afternoon has been surprisingly quiet, most likely due to the fact that Turnbull is standing guard duty and, I assumed, obviously incorrectly, that Ray had been working on his CD project. 

"Do I need to get enough plaster for approximately two square feet of wall?" 

"Yeah that should be more than enough...thanks, Frase, love you." 

"It's no problem, Ray, I'll see you at 6:30, I love you too." 

After a fascinating discussion about wall plaster with Harry at Sam's Hardware, I find myself following young Chris, the delivery man from The Great Wall restaurant, up the stairs to our apartment. 

"Good evening, Chris, I see Ray has placed an order for dinner?" 

"Hi, Constable Fraser. Yeah, Ray ordered a lot tonight. Have you guys been gone or something? It's been a while since you ordered." 

"No, Ray has been ill, so we haven't been eating much takeout food." 

"Oh, OK, I'll tell my folks. They thought you guys might have found a different Chinese place." 

"Tell you parents not to worry, Chris, we are always happy with the food we order from his establishment." I put my key in the door and motion Chris to follow me in. Ray meets us at the door. 

I can see he had planned on kissing me, but he catches sight of Chris in time and stops short. 

"Great, food! How much do I owe ya, Chris?" 

"Ah, it comes to $27.50." 

"OK, Ray pulls his wallet off the kitchen counter. Um, Frase, do you have ten bucks?" 

"Yes, here you are." 

"Here ya go, Chris, thanks, keep the change and say hi to your old man for me, OK?" 

"Sure, thanks. Get well soon, Ray." 

"I will, thanks. Bye." 

I turn to Ray. "$27.50, Ray? What did you order?" 

"Well, I was really hungry when I called in, and Chris's mom was asking me if I'd been out of town or something, which kinda made me feel bad, so I ordered more than we usually eat. We can always heat up the leftovers for lunch tomorrow instead of having soup. That would save time too." 

"Good idea, Ray. I'll make you a plate, what would you like to start with?" 

"Um, give me an eggroll, some shrimp rice, an egg fu yung and about three of those spareribs." 

"And to drink?" 

"Um, juice, I guess. And a coke." 

I wince inwardly at the strange mix of drinks Ray favors. Still, if he wants a soda he must be feeling better. 

I'm careful not to mention the "accidents" of the day, although I can see that Ray has not yet finished his CD project. To be fair, the CDs are now stacked close to the stereo, but the sticky notes are also evident and I suspect Ray didn't spend much time on the project today. 

We eat in front of the television while watching a baseball game. Ray is showing an unusual amount of interest in the outcome of every play. 

"You seem exceptionally excited about the game tonight, Ray, why is that?" 

"It's April, Fraser." 

"Ah..." I take a moment in an attempt to decipher that comment. "What does that mean exactly, Ray?" 

"It means it's too early in the season for the Cubs to be totally out of it, so they still have a chance at the playoffs. By the time the end of May rolls around, most of us Cub fans are already longing for next year." 

"I see." And I do. I've lived in Chicago long enough to know about the Cubs. It's amazing to me that they still have fans at all, considering how disappointing each season seems to be for them. "Hope springs eternal." 

"Well, at least until the end of May, Fraser." 

I wait for the seventh-inning stretch and the inevitable fold of the Cubs before I ask Ray about the wall. 

"Ray?" He starts guiltily. He must have been burning up trying not to say anything...waiting for me to mention the day's events. 

"Yeah, Frase?" 

"Where are these holes in the wall?" I have my suspicions, as I noticed when I came home that the large winged armchair had been pushed up against the wall next to the door. 

"They're here," says Ray as he gets up and moves the chair aside. One is low, near the baseboard, which explains why I didn't notice it during lunch, Ray probably had a stack of CDs there. The other is higher, just barely covered by the wing of the chair. 

I can not imagine what happened, so I have to ask. "What happened, Ray?" 

He grins. "I knew you'd want to know." 

I grin back, letting him believe he's won this round. 

"Well, I was cleaning up the CDs this morning, you know, stacking them in different piles, trying to decide how to sort them, when I remembered that I had a couple of old CDs in the desk." 

"I'm with you so far." 

"OK, so I found the CDs, and I can't really figure out why I put them in the desk...probably because they're Abba and the Bee Gees...but you'll never guess what else I found in there, Fraser." 

I look pointedly at the wall and then at Ray. "A slingshot? A small catapult? A large caliber handgun?" 

"Oh, very funny." 

"OK, I give up, what did you find?" 

He jumps up and runs to the desk, returning with two yo-yos. 

"Yo-yos." I say, patiently waiting for an explanation. 

"Not just any yo-yos, Fraser, I got these when I was eight. These are vintage, 1960s Duncan Yo-Yos. The Butterfly model," he holds the twotone one, "and the Imperial." 

"I see...they're nice, but I don't understand how the holes in the wall happened." 

"Well, it's been a while since I played with them." 

"But, Ray, as I understand it, the yo-yo is attached to the finger by the string." 

"Well, yeah, Fraser, it works that way, but like I said, I haven't used them in a while, and when I tried around the world, the string broke and the yo-yo shot into the wall." 

"And the second time?" I know how it happened, I just want him to say it. 

He looks down at his feet. "Um, same thing, but later in the day." 

"I see. So after the first yo-yo bounced off the wall, you didn't think the same thing might happen with the second?" 

"Well, no, not really, because I knew that I had gotten the Butterfly a couple of months after the Imperial, and I thought the string was a little newer." 

"I see. Well, perhaps we can patch the wall this weekend and you could refrain from attempting "around the world" in the house." 

"Don't worry, Frase, once the strings are replaced, I shouldn't have that problem with the yo-yos. Oh, by the way, I need you to pick up some new yo-yo strings tomorrow, OK?" 

"Can't you use regular string, Ray?" 

"Yeah, sure, if I don't want the yo-yo to sleep." He rolls his eyes. " I really need the yo-yo strings." 

I have no idea what he means by a "sleeping yo-yo," but I refuse to ask. "I've never purchased yo-yo strings, where would I find such an item?" 

"Um, toy store, I think." 

"All right, I'll stop by the toy store on the way home for lunch tomorrow, do you think you'll be well enough to heat up the chinese food?" 

"Yeah, I think so. I'm usually feeling OK after I sleep in and before lunch." 

"Good, that settles tomorrow then." 

Ray looks at the television. "Looks like the Cubs have blown another one. I think I'll go to bed." He comes over to hug me. "Sorry about the wall, Frase." 

"It's no problem, Ray." I feel his forehead and he feels a little warmer than earlier. "Should I fix you some cold medicine?" 

"Yeah, that'd be good. I'm going to brush my teeth, I'll meet you at the bed." 

"See you there." 

Wednesday  
It's difficult to get out of bed today. Especially with the knowledge that Ray will be able to stay, warm and eminently snuggable, in bed. 

I drag myself wearily out of bed and start the shower. The warm water sluicing down my body just makes me want to crawl back into bed, so I turn down the hot tap until the chill water begins to feel invigorating. 

Dressing quickly, I lean down to kiss Ray goodbye and feel his skin. He turns his face up to mine and returns the kiss. 

"Have a good day, Ben," he mumbles, "love you." 

"And I you, Ray. I'll see you for lunch, all right?" 

"OK..." He slides directly back into sleep. 

I envy him his time in bed, though certainly not his illness. I have often spent days cabin-bound, but always because of dangerous weather conditions, not illness. Except for the bout of pinkeye as a child...but as it was difficult to see and I was so young at the time, I was content to stay at home. 

I know that Ray's usual manic energy has been sapped by his condition, but it's also plain that the house restriction is fraying his nerves. I assume that these two factors lead him to spend more hours in bed - sleeping - than he is wont to do. 

I quickly and sternly halt my reverie there before my contemplation of Ray in bed leads to unrequitable arousal. I'm having enough difficulties in that department. 

Returning home for lunch I find Ray sitting on the floor in front of his bicycle stand. 

"Worshipping false idols, Ray? What am I going to tell your parents?" 

He turns and grins at me. "I don't think Mom would worry too much, Frase, but if you tell my dad about this and me letting you drive the Goat, I'll probably be disowned." 

"As long as you don't sacrifice any virgins or chickens, I'll keep your dirty secret." 

"Great, now I'll have to cancel that mail order I placed." 

"Which did you order, Ray?" 

"Virgins, of course.," He rolls his eyes at me. "Chickens are a dime a dozen in this neighborhood. But virgins, that's a whole different ball game." 

We laugh and the sound of the microwave chime interrupts. "That's lunch, Frase! I heated up the rice, all of the egg fu yung and the broccoli beef, does that sound good?" 

"It sounds wonderful, Ray. Did we have any of the spareribs left over?" 

"Um, no, no...we ate all of those last night." His shifting eyes tell me that Dief probably finished off the ribs while the Cubs were losing last night. 

"Well, no matter, I'm sure there's plenty of food for lunch." 

"Sure, Frase, there's plenty, and you know how you like broccoli beef." 

Ray dishes up and we enjoy another home lunch. 

"I brought your yo-yo strings, Ray. The man at the store said that one package would hold you for a while if you only had two yo-yos." 

"Thanks, Frase, that should solve my flying yo-yos problem." 

"Why were you sitting in front of your bicycle, Ray?" 

"I was thinking it was about time to give that baby a tune up. Warmer weather is just around the corner you know." 

"I wasn't aware that bicycles needed 'tune-ups,' Ray." 

"Oh yeah. They need the spokes checked, tires balanced, chain and sprockets cleaned and greased, brake lines and pads checked for wear...it's a lot of work, but it's also a lot better than snapping a brake line on a steep grade." 

"Do you speak from experience?" 

"You know that little scar on the inside of my left knee?" 

"Yes...the half-moon shape?" God help me, just thinking about the inside of Ray's left knee has me aroused. 

"That's how I got it. Snapped a rear brakeline halfway down 'Deadman's Run' and the front brakes held. Threw me like a rodeo clown." 

"When did that happen?" 

"Oh, about 7 or 8 years ago. I looked pretty stupid riding my bike home with torn gear and blood all over me." 

"A valuable lesson learned then." 

"Yeah. I need to have the bike down and check it out. I could dismantle it on the balcony." He turns to look at me, trying to gauge my reaction to his statement. 

"Ray, a stiff, chill wind is blowing in off the lake. I think it would be better for your recovery if you didn't spend time on the balcony today." 

"Oh, OK. I don't want to risk a relapse I guess. Dr. Lee would have me in the hospital if that happened." 

I'm pleased with myself for having nipped this project in the bud. "Well, Ray, he can put you in the hospital, but he can't have you. I would draw the line at that." 

Ray snorts in surprise and starts laughing. "God, Frase...you just amused and disgusted me all at once." 

"I seem to have done the same for myself," I wince, the images of Ray and Dr. Lee now indelibly burned into my brain. "I have no idea what came over me." 

Ray snorts again. "Could it be, Constable, that you're tired of dating your right hand when you have my incredibly cute ass in bed with you every night?" 

"That might be part of the problem," I admit, grinning at him as we clear the table. "But if you keep talking like that, I'll have your 'cute ass' next chance I get whether you're feeling up to it or not." 

"Oh, promises, promises." 

"If I didn't have to be back at work in ten minutes," I growl at him. 

Ray's eyes go wide and he licks his lips lasciviously. "You could take five minutes..." he says in his husky voice. 

I set the dishes in the sink and grab him around the waist. Pulling him to me I stroke his chest and nip his earlobe. "I could take five minutes, but I'd only want more and I don't want to be the cause of your relapse." 

Ray shivers and moans in my ear. "Oh God, Fraser. It's been too long. Can't you call in late or something?" 

I reach down between his legs and feel his erection through his sweatpants, definitely a sign of improvement. My dark side takes over, seeing this as an opportunity to take revenge on Ray for his teasing. I stroke him mercilessly. When he's thrusting against my hand I pull back, give him a quick kiss on the cheek and walk to the door. "I'll see you at 6:30, Ray, try to get some rest." 

"You bastard," he gasps out. "How am I supposed to rest like this?" 

"Well, you could always make a 'date' with your right hand, Ray. I love you." 

His eyes narrow and he yells at me as I leave the apartment, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "AND I YOU!" 

Another dismal and long day at the consulate and all I want to do is get home and get some rest. The plans for the meeting on Friday are progressing slowly, despite Turnbull's efforts. Between pointing out and educating him about his mistakes and worrying about Ray, I find myself exhausted and plagued by a pounding headache when I leave the consulate. I'm also feeling a twinge of guilt after our lunchtime scene. I know it was cruel, but it seems that I have no self-control where Ray is concerned, even when it comes to teasing him. I just want to get home, have a quiet dinner, a shower and get to bed. 

Of course, that is not to be. Based on the evidence presented to me thus far this week, I should have known that Ray's increase in energy would lead to something like this, but thinking clearly has not been on my agenda this week. 

"Ray? I'm home." 

"Hiya, Frase," he yells from the bathroom. "I'll be out in a minute." 

I place my bag of groceries on the countertop and begin stripping off my uniform. 

Entering the bedroom I hang up my tunic and sit on the bed to remove my boots. Ray comes out of the bathroom and gives me a quick hug and kiss. "Hey, Frase, how was your day?" 

"It was tiring, Ray. I'm surprised how difficult it seems to be putting this meeting together for Friday. Usually I encounter no more than two or three difficulties per meeting, but it seems as if I'm dealing with two or three disasters a day." 

Ray hugs me again. "I bet Turnbull's being his usual incompetent self too, huh?" 

"The strange thing is that he's usually capable enough when it comes to the catering and social events, but even that seems to be beyond his reach at the moment. Perhaps he's distracted in his personal life. In any case, it's making my job that much more difficult." 

"I'm sorry, Frase. I wish I could help you out." 

"Just get well, Ray, that will be a big help." 

"I'm really feeling a lot better today. I had a good rest and I think I sound a lot less like a sea lion now." He's grinning at me. 

"Have the neighbor children stopped throwing fish at you?" 

He laughs. "Yeah, they're back to throwing rocks now." 

"Ah, a return to the normal routine, then." In the dim light coming in from the hallway I notice that what I had assumed was a shadow is actually a smudge of black on his neck. I put a hand on his chin and tilt his head, causing him to close his eyes and pucker up. "Ray, what is that smudge on your neck?" 

"Huh?" Ray opens his eyes and looks confused. "What...on my neck?" He stands and goes to the dresser mirror. "Oh..." He's rubbing at the smudge. 

"What is it, Ray?" 

"Um...it's bicycle grease, Frase." He has the decency to look guilty. 

"I thought you weren't going to do the tune-up today, Ray." 

"Well, I got started on it, I'll probably finish it later tonight. The greasy parts have to soak for a couple hours." 

I decide the best policy is to ignore the situation. "I'm going to take a quick shower and then make dinner. I got steak and potatoes and salad, how does that sound?" 

"Uh, sounds good, really good. But, maybe you should wait until after dinner for a shower." 

"Why, Ray?" 

"You said I shouldn't go out on the balcony, Frase, so I used the bathtub to soak the greasy bicycle parts." 

"What? Is that wise, Ray?" 

"Um, I'm not sure, I didn't really stop to think about it until I'd done it. I didn't want to risk the balcony/relapse scenario." 

"Ray, I'm sure that whatever you're using to remove the grease is not safe to put into the sewer system." 

"Frase," he rolls his eyes at me. "I used dishwashing goop. That's why it takes so long. And the grease is special biodegradable grease, that's why I have to replace it every year. It costs more, but it helps the environment, even I'm not that evil." 

"Ah, I see. I'll just start dinner and perhaps call on Mrs. Duncan and see if I can use her shower this evening. She did mention I could call on her in an emergency." 

"OK, I'll watch the steaks while you shower and after dinner I'll clean up the tub, deal?" 

"Deal, if you're sure you're up to it?" 

"Yeah, Ben, I had a good rest today. Plus the advantage of using the dishwashing liquid means no grease ring around the tub." 

I call on our neighbor Mrs. Duncan and she agrees to let me use her shower. She's been lonely since Tim, her husband of 42 years, passed away and Ray and I have made an extra effort to call on her at least once a week. 

Of course, after dinner I help Ray clean the tub and put his various bicycle parts into milk crates so he can continue his tune-up on Thursday. By the time I fall into bed, I'm utterly worn out. 

Too Early Thursday morning  
"Ben, Ben...are you awake?" 

I look at the clock to discover that Ray is waking me at 3 a.m. I struggle to wake. "Ray! What is it? Are you feeling ill?" I reach for his forehead and miss. 

"Ow, my eye! Geez. No, Ben, I'm OK, but I need you to buy me some vegetables tomorrow." 

"What?...vegetables?" 

"Yeah, can you get me an acorn squash, some radishes and a couple of big potatoes tomorrow at lunch time?" 

"What?...vegetables?" I can't seem to wake up enough to understand the urgency of this conversation. 

"Yeah, I need some cucumbers too...I know, I'll write you a list for the store, OK? Go back to sleep, Ben." 

"OK, Ray." That command is one that I can understand at least. I spend the rest of the night dreaming of large vegetables with spiky blond hair, wild eyes and mucous infections. 

Thursday  
I find a note from Ray taped to the front door as I leave the apartment this morning. I can vaguely recall a rather one-sided conversation sometime during the night. Something about vegetables, I believe. Indeed, the note confirms that my dreams were not the product of a deranged mind...not my deranged mind at any rate. 

"Dear Ben," it reads, "could you please pick up these vegetables at the store on your way home for lunch today? I really need them this afternoon so please try not to forget, OK?  
3 big potatoes  
2 acorn squash  
a bunch of radishes  
2 big cucumbers. 

Love you,  
ray 

p.s. and 2 turnips, OK?" 

I'm not sure why Ray needs these items, and quite frankly, I'm afraid to ask. I can only hope that Ray has turned over a new nutritional leaf, as it were. 

I make my now daily noontime shopping trip to purchase Ray's vegetables and return to the apartment for lunch. To my surprise, Ray is not on the couch but in the kitchen, heating soup. 

"Ray! Are you feeling better? You didn't have to make lunch, I would be happy to." 

"Nah, Ben, I knew you'd stop by the store for me, so the least I could do is make lunch for us. Did you get the spuds and stuff?" 

"Yes, Ray, although the cucumbers were a bit disappointing." 

"That's OK, Frase, I know you did your best. Hey, come stir the soup, OK? I wanna check 'em out." 

"Of course." 

I take up my appointed task as Ray removes his vegetables from the shopping bag. I watch him surreptitiously in the vain hope that I will be able to discern his plans, but I remain mystified. He eyes the tubers appreciatively before attempting to make each one stand on its end. I have to look away as he begins running his hands over the cucumbers...I certainly hope he feels well enough for bedroom calisthenics soon. I would like to be able to cut down on my time in the shower. 

My curiosity gets the better of me. "Ray...Ray...Ray...Ray?" 

"Huh? Yeah, Frase?" 

"Why do you need the vegetables?" 

"Well, I could tell you, but that would ruin the surprise, don't ya think?" 

I flash back on Ray's "surprise" projects I've seen so far this week and wonder if I should try to dissuade him. Of course, that would be cruel after aiding and abetting by providing the materials. 

"Right you are, Ray. I'll just have to wait till this evening, won't I?" 

"That's right, but it'll be worth it. You'll love it. Now let's eat and get you back to work before the Ice Queen comes looking for you." 

I again mentally curse the impulse that led me to tell Inspector Thatcher about Ray's illness. She immediately put a claim on my usual liaison time for the week and I am unable to spend any work time with Ray as he is "non-liaisable". Perhaps mentioning that I was unsure if "non-liaisable" was actually a word did not help my case. 

With only one day left to prepare for the inter-consulate meeting, my afternoon at the office is taxing, to say the least. It's nearly seven before I walk up the stairs to the apartment and I'm drained. 

I'm stunned to hear the TV start up as I enter the apartment: it seems to be set to the shopping channel. As I walk to the coffee table searching for the remote control I hear Ray's voice. 

"No, wait, Ben, I want you to see this." 

He's in the kitchen waiting for me, firing both remotes through the passthrough, which means he has actually taped an infomercial. I bite my tongue to keep from mentioning that Ray seems to be more like his parents every day. 

"All right, Ray," I reply, thinking that his fever must have flared up this afternoon after lunch. "But could you please turn the sound down a bit? It seems very loud." 

"Sure." He pauses to adjust the volume. "OK, have a seat." 

I make myself comfortable on the couch and sit through ten minutes of two overly-excited men singing the praises of a set of kitchen knives. 

"Ray, did you buy a set of these?" I ask as the "expert" saws through a canned ham with one of the knives, although the logic of this escapes me when one can clearly see the pull ring on the top of the tin. 

"Shh, Ben, just watch, OK?" 

Another five minutes passes and the knife expert has moved from the kitchen to the garden. He makes two strange looking garden gnomes from root vegetables and suddenly everything begins to make sense. Ray wanted vegetables like these. 

The video stops on the close up of the gnomes and Ray speaks into the silence. 

"And now, appearing live for the first time anywhere..." Ray is walking carefully into the living room carrying a TV tray covered with a beach towel. "The Kowalski Gnomes!" With a flourish he removes the towel. 

On the tray are what can only be described as mutant versions of the gnomes on the TV screen. It's as if some evil genius from one of Ray's strange "sci-fi" movies has gotten his hands on the TV gnomes and things have gone hopelessly awry. The cucumber men are the most disturbing to me - though I can't, for the moment - think why that should be. All of Ray's creations are disturbing. I'm struck by the thought that I really don't want to go into the kitchen right now. 

I feel my mouth fall open and stay there. Ray mistakes my reaction to mean that I am excited by his project. 

"Aren't they great, Frase?" 

"They really are something, Ray." 

"Yeah, did you notice my attention to detail here?" He points to the cucumber man I find so strangely upsetting. 

"Um, yes, Ray. What is that yellow stuff on the top there?" 

"Oh, it's from the insides of the squash...hold on, let me fix it, it's hard to make it stay in the right position." He steps between me and the tray, busying himself with correcting the gnome's accoutrements, whistling while he works. And now an image of a demented Geppetto springs to mind. I really need to get more sleep. He steps back again and the squash entrails are standing straight up from cucumberman's head and my unease grows. "See?" says Ray. 

"Ah, yes Ray, uh..." my voice trails off as the reason for my discomfort becomes clear. The cucumber man also has what appears to be a small vegetable shoulder harness and badge...Cucumberman is Ray. 

"It's incredible, Ray." I say, telling myself I'm not lying. "That's a cucumber version of yourself isn't it?" 

"Yeah, cool, huh? And I didn't have to kick out the big bucks for the knife set either." 

"Really, Ray? You made those with your knives?" I don't need to feign astonishment because Ray only has two knives in his kitchen, one for paring and the other for bread. 

"Well, I used those sure, but most of the difficult stuff I did with your knives." 

"My knives, Ray?" Now I'm confused. The lack of proper implements in the kitchen had been a point of disagreement twice since I moved in. Ray insisting that his two knives were adequate to any task. Which, given what Ray's usual diet entailed, was probably true. 

"Yeah, you know, those knives of yours that you keep in the box in the sock drawer." 

"The box I keep in the sock drawer?" I echo him, shock temporarily numbing my mind. 

"Yeah, Frase, how come you don't just keep 'em in the hitchen? We could make room for them." 

"Ray, do you mean the knives I keep in the wooden box in the sock drawer?" 

"Did I just say that or do I have a fever?" Ray replies, grinning. He lifts a hand to his forehead. "Nope, no fever, so I must have said that. Hey, but seriously, Frase, I need to clean up the kitchen before we can eat, so can your knives go into the dishwasher?" 

Ray finally looks at me as he notices that I am not actually responding to his question. "What's wrong, Frase? Don't worry, I'll clean up the kitchen, you can relax." 

"Ray, those are my woodworking knives!" I know my voice is too loud. 

"Really? I've never seen you use them for wood. They work great on the vegetables, though. I don't know why you think we need more kitchen knives, we could always use those when you're not woodworking." 

"They are not meant to be used on vegetables!" I am nearly apoplectic now. 

"Why not?" Ray clearly has no idea what I mean. 

"Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray...what if someone were to buy the GTO and use it as a taxi?" 

"I wouldn't sell the Goat, Fraser. What are you talking about? Do you have a fever?" This last question is accompanied by a hand slapping onto my forehead with considerable force. 

"Oops, sorry, Frase, I don't have my glasses on." A moment of silence is followed by, "You don't feel hot to me." 

"I don't have a fever, Ray," I say as I push his hand away. "I'm simply trying to point out to you that my woodworking knives are not to be used on vegetables." 

"Look, Fraser, I'm not trying to be dense here, but I have been sick, so do you think you could just tell me what you mean and why my car is involved...did something happen to the Goat?" He ends on a slightly panicked note. 

"No, Ray," I sigh, "your car is fine. I'm simply telling you that using my woodworking knives for your gnome project is tantamount to the GTO being used as a taxi. It's simply not how they are meant to be used." 

"Oh." Ray looks at his gnomes and then at his feet. "I'm sorry, Ben. I didn't realize they were so special." He seems truly contrite. "So, um, should they go in the dishwasher or not?" 

He looks so disappointed that I feel my anger leave me as quickly as it came. "They need to be washed by hand, oiled and sharpened. But your vegetable gnomes are delightful and I'm sure the knives have come to no harm." 

He smiles as his mood does an about face. "Aren't they great though? I didn't have time to make your hat, but the rest looks good, huh?" He is pointing to a large russet potato that is much more rotund than I consider myself to be. I look down at my body. 

"I'm not that round, am I, Ray?" 

"No, of course not, Fraser! This is like cartoons, you know, where everyone's features are bigger or longer or whatever." 

"You mean like caricature?" 

"Right." 

"Oh, I see. Then you don't see me as overweight at all? Because I really haven't gotten enough exercise this week at all." 

"Well, you're not the lean, mean street machine that I am, but you're not too heavy in bed either." He says this last with a wink and I feel an immediate response in my groin. I wonder if Ray feels well enough to make love. 

"I'm sorry I used your special knives, Ben." Ray walks over and sits in my lap. I can quit wondering. "Is there any way I can make it up to you?" he asks in a husky voice. 

"I don't know, Ray, this is a serious breach. It may take some time for me to get over it." My own voice sounds like I've been standing too close to a campfire. 

"I'll just have to try real hard," Ray replies as he strokes my erection through my pants, "won't I?" 

"I'll let you know when I'm appeased, Ray." 

"I bet you will," Ray laughs into my mouth. "I just wonder if I'll be in a coma when you tell me." 

I twine my hands into his hair and pull his head back to look into his face. "Now, Ray, you know your welfare is foremost in my mind." How I manage to say that without grinning is beyond me. 

"Of course, Fraser," Ray replies solemnly, "I feel nothing but your concern for me, even now." He squeezes me almost too roughly and laughs as I gasp and fight for control. It's been a long time for both of us and I don't think I'm going to last very long. 

"Ray?" I pull gently on his hair. 

"Yeah, Frase?" 

"I think dinner can wait, don't you?" 

"Oh yeah." I pull his head towards mine and meet his lips with my own, biting and sucking them until he opens to me. I slide my tongue into his mouth and gently explore. He still tastes a bit of fever and the medicine, but I think Ray is well along the road to recovery. 

I slide my tongue down Ray's neck nipping him along the way. His moans excite me and he breathes, "What do you want to do?" as he continues to stroke me. It's difficult to frame a reply. 

"Ray, I want...I want to make love to you. Are you well enough for that?" 

"Oh, god yeah. Let's get naked and go to bed." 

"You have such good ideas, Ray!" I wrap my arms around him and stand up, carrying him, the promise of a session of lovemaking giving me new strength. He yelps in surprise and then wraps his legs around my waist and starts laughing. 

"Oh, goody, macho Ben!" I simply growl and tighten my grip on him, accidentally backing him into the wall when I miss the doorway while trying to kiss him again. 

"Ow, hey! Frasmmphf..." I take the opportunity to slide my tongue as far down his throat as I can and to thrust my hips against his body. He moans into my mouth and tightens the grip his legs have on me as I see flashes behind my eyelids. I have to slow down as it's now becoming difficult to breathe, for so many reasons. 

"Ben...Ben...Ben...Ben?" Ray's panting now. 

"Yes, Ray?" My breathing is just as labored. 

"Can we go to bed now? The light switch is kinda digging into my kidney." 

Ah, that explains the flashes. 

"Oh, of course, Ray. Are you all right?" 

"Yeah, Frase, I'm good." 

We adjourn to the bed and I set to stripping Ray in earnest. As he's wearing only a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, it takes very little time. As soon as he's nude however, my attention wanders and instead of removing my own clothing I find myself lying on top of Ray, worshipping his body with my hands, eyes and mouth. 

God, he's beautiful, never more so than when he's aroused and panting on the bed. I lick each nipple and watch them harden as I gently blow on them. He's extremely sensitive there, so I don't linger. Tracing a path from his sternum to his belly, I spend time biting into the softness there and tonguing his navel. By now, he's muttering and writhing and I feel a rush of adrenaline as I realize that I have brought him to this. 

"...please Ben,...unh...god, I'm gonna...please...come on!" 

I relent and slide my mouth onto his penis without warning. This can be dangerous, the first time I did this he thrust hard into my mouth and climaxed immediately. I nearly choked on ejaculate and we laughed later - much later - about that being my epitaph. 

I'm lucky today - probably because Ray has been ill - he doesn't orgasm immediately. He grips my hair to try to control the pace. I let him thrust a few times into my mouth and then gently remove his hands from my head and slide down to his scrotum. Sucking his testicles delicately into my mouth causes him to gasp and twine his fingers into the sheets. I massage his perineum first with my fingers and follow with my tongue. By the time I've reached his anus, he's thrusting weakly and begging me to take him. 

"Please Ben, unh...fuck me!" 

I am at the edge as well. Grasping his ankles I push his knees into his chest and settle myself between his spread thighs. As I reach down to kiss him, he begins to chuckle, which irritates me a bit. I bite down on his collarbone and he stops. 

Gasping, he says, "Ben, I'm ready for this, really...but don't you think you should take off some clothes and maybe find the lube?" 

I stare at him, trying desperately to process the message before looking down and seeing what he sees. Ray, completely nude and looking ravishing and myself, still dressed in tunic, jodphurs and boots. Despite my irritation and arousal, I find myself laughing as well. 

"Yeah, Frase, I know it's been a while, but I seem to remember it working better when we're both naked." Ray grins at me and we laugh again, arousal dampened for the moment. 

"Right you are, Ray. I'll remove the uniform, do you think you can find the lube?" 

"Yep." 

I strip as quickly as I can, and by the time I turn back to the bed, Ray is lying in a wanton sprawl, using his own hand to stretch and prepare himself. 

"I'm ready, Frase, how about I get you ready too?" 

"Yesssss." I have to close my eyes to regain control. 

I slide onto my knees on the bed and Ray leans up to lick my penis and then wrap a slick hand around me. He pumps me slowly, letting the tension build until he knows I'm very close. With a final squeeze and kiss he turns his back to me and drops down on all fours. 

I waste no time. I'm too close and aroused to wait any longer. Grasping his hips I slide in deep and fast, reveling in the feel of him so tight around my own flesh. Ray arches his back and hisses, making me stop for a moment so he can relax and get used to the feel of me. Me...deep inside Ray...feeling his muscles clench and spasm around me as he fights to relax and welcome me. Finally I feel him loosen up and he says, "OK, Frase, fuck me. As hard as you want." 

I lean down and kiss his spine, nipping gently as I whisper, "Hold on, Ray." 

He nods, beyond words, and I pull back and thrust deeply into him, enjoying the explosive grunt I force out of him. Time is up, I have no control and begin to thrust with all my strength. A corner of my mind is listening to Ray, noticing when he begins to chant, "yeah, yeah, yeah....ohhhh yeah" so I know when to snake my hand around his hip and grasp his penis. I apply firm, fast strokes and rub my thumb around the crown on the upstrokes, which I have learned Ray likes best. He climaxes within a few strokes and his enthusiastic orgasm heralds my own. Three, perhaps four more thrusts and I bury myself deep within him and follow him over the edge. 

I'm still inside him as we collapse together, sated and exhausted. 

"That was remarkable, Ray," I say as I nuzzle his neck. 

"Ummmm yeah." 

After drifting in a post-coital stupor for a few minutes, we finally give in to the inevitable and help each other to the shower. We place the mutant gnomes with Ray's other projects before cleaning the kitchen and calling for deli sandwiches. We're both too spent to cook. I suppose we'll have to spend the weekend sorting his various ventures out. 

We have an early night and both of us sleep soundly. 

Friday   
As I climb the stairs, I dread to think what I will find in the apartment...I was unable to come home for lunch today. My presence was required to iron out some last minute details for the inter-consulate meeting and of course my attendance for the afternoon meeting itself was also mandatory. Ray's health continues to improve, in direct proportion, it would seem, to his boredom. 

I wonder what project he has invented without my interference to rein him in. I think it's a safe bet that finishing any of his projects-in-progress has not been on his agenda today. 

It's hot, I'm tired from nursing and policing Ray and I'm relieved that the weekend is upon us. All I want is a nice, cool shower and two days off to relax and clean up the apartment. 

Ray bounds into my arms at the door. I hug him tightly and kiss his forehead, but he's not fooled for an instant. 

"I don't have a fever, Frase," he complains with a childlike whine as he pushes me away. "I haven't had a fever for two days and I'm going out tomorrow if I have to drug you and sneak out the window." 

"Yes, Ray," I reply. "You seem to be just your usual warm self. I'm pleased to say that I believe your housebound days are over." 

"Thank god," he sighs, "I don't think I can do another day in this cockamamie jail." 

"Now, Ray, staying home when you're sick is important. Not only do you ensure a complete recovery, you also avoid infecting others." 

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles. 

I feel a spike of irritation and reach for his forehead. "Hmmm, perhaps you're still a bit feverish. Another day in won't do you any harm." I have difficulty holding back my grin. 

"Frase, you just said I could go out! That's not fair. I'm fine," he disagrees, putting a hand on his own forehead. "I don't feel hot at all." 

"No, but I do," I reply grinning, "I'm going to have a cool shower." 

"Um, you can't do that right now, Fraser," mutters Ray sheepishly. His eyes look anywhere but at my own. 

I quickly look around the room and realize that I can see no new projects...only Ray's ill-fated attempts from the previous days. 

I grasp his shoulders and shake him gently. "Why can't I have a shower, Ray? Is the water turned off? Have we had a plumbing emergency of some kind?" 

"No, nothing like that," mutters Ray, still refusing to look at me. 

I put my hand on his chin and force his head up. Our eyes meet. "Why can't I shower, Ray?" 

"I was feeling kinda cooped up today, Ben." 

He knows he's in trouble here, he's addressing me as Ben. I let out a heavy sigh. 

"And?" I prompt him. 

"And I was walking around the apartment and I was thinking that I'm probably not the only one feeling that way." The whine threatens to slip back into his voice. 

I'm perplexed, Diefenbaker has been at work with me for the last three days. "Ah, and who else is feeling 'cooped up' Ray?" 

"Well, Champ looks content, but now I know what it's like to be in a small space for a long time. The more I looked at him, the sadder he looked to me." 

Understanding dawns...the turtle is in the bathtub. 

"Can't you move Champ back to his aquarium, Ray?" I wince slightly at the hint of whine now creeping into my own voice. 

"Well, I could, but he's only been in there a couple hours and I think he's really enjoying it. Plus, it would take a while to dismantle the rest." 

He mumbles this last sentence, in the hope, I assume, that I will not hear it. 

"The rest of what, Ray?" 

He sighs deeply. "You'd better come look," he says as he turns and heads toward the bathroom. I follow with a feeling of dread. 

As he reaches the bathroom, Ray becomes re-excited by his latest project. He sweeps the door open with a flourish and waves towards the tub. "Ta Daaa! Welcome to Turtle World!" 

I can do nothing but gape. Words fail me as I stare at what can only be described as a Ray-version of a turtle's paradise. 

"Turtle World, Ray?" I say, as my eyes sweep past the fun park he's built for Champ. At least, that is what Ray's until only recently fevered brain believes...I personally think that Champ will have little use for the slide or merry-go-round. 

In fact, Champ seems interested exclusively in what appears to be the butchered remains of Ray's Vegetable Garden Gnomes project, and I must say he looks to me like he always does. 

"Doesn't he look happy, Frase?" Ray is fairly beaming. I can't stand to do anything that might cause that smile to disappear. 

"He looks thrilled, Ray," I agree enthusiastically. "What's he eating there?" 

"That's one of the best parts of Turtle World," Ray enthuses, "it's a full salad bar!"   
Ray is starting to remind me of the frighteningly energetic people in the television advertisements for a local steakhouse. 

"...and this is the merry-go-round, turtle-powered of course, and the seesaw, but I might have to get him a buddy to use that and this is the giant slide! And when I turn on the shower, he has a little fountain to play in!" I note that the showerhead has been duct-taped to the floor of the tub. 

"I see." I'm unable to think of anything else to say at the moment. 

"He loves it! You should have seen him on the merry-go-round." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah, he got on and started to push himself around with one leg, it was so cool!" 

"Are you sure he wasn't simply attempting to get off of it, Ray?" I ask skeptically. 

"No, Fraser," Ray says coldly, "he was really enjoying it. He'd still be doing that, but all that exercise made him hungry." 

"And the box of table tennis balls?" I'm afraid to ask where he may have acquired them. 

"Remember when we went to that pizza place for kids?" 

"Yes...last month, when we were in Evanston?" 

"Right, and remember you asked about the big box of balls with the net around it?" 

"Ah, I see, this is a similar toy for Champ?" 

"Right, but I think he might be afraid of it. I'm not sure why. Maybe if I paint the balls blue and red." 

"Yes, well, I see you've invested quite a lot of time and effort in Turtle World. I'll just ask Mrs. Duncan if I can shower in her apartment again so we don't have to displace Champ." 

"That'd be great, Ben, Champ would really appreciate it. You can use the can, though, if you need to, that won't bother him, I know from experience." 

"I'll do that before I visit Mrs. Duncan. Perhaps later we can make a more permanent version of Turtle World for Champ elsewhere?" 

"Good idea, then we could let him run around when he gets aquarium fever. Oh, I know, we can get one of those plastic kid pools!" 

Yes, an excellent idea, Ray. I'll just call on Mrs. Duncan." 

Mrs. Duncan is agreeable to lending her shower for my use again, and has even made a batch of chocolate chip cookies for Ray, to help him "get well." My mind shudders at the thought of Ray ingesting any sugar in his current state, but I thank Mrs. Duncan kindly and promise to give them to Ray with "her love." 

I must admit to being somewhat bemused by our neighbor's fascination with Ray. It's not often that I am "second choice with the ladies" as Ray so indelicately puts it. I can only assume that he reminds her of someone dear and I say as much to Ray when I deliver the cookies and the message. 

"Aw, Fraser, I didn't mean to make you jealous. I can't help it if she's hot for me," he says around a mouthful of cookie. 

"I'm not sure she's 'hot for you,' Ray, I think you probably remind her of a son or nephew." 

"No, I think she wants me. I don't think I should ever go over there on my own. She might lure me into her boudoir and have her wicked way with me." 

"For goodness sake," I argue, "she's 70 if she's a day!" 

"Hey, Ben, hormone replacement therapy, not to mention hip replacements, have worked wonders for the modern post-menopausal woman." 

After the moment of crypt-like silence that follows that remark, we both struggle not to laugh out loud and fail miserably. 

"Man," Ray says as our giggling subsides, "I can't wait to get back to work so I can quit watching daytime TV." 

"I think we would all benefit, Ray." 

"What would you like for dinner, Ray...I mean other than cookies?" 

"Well, I was hoping to talk you into pizza to celebrate me getting sprung tomorrow." 

"That sounds good. Can I leave that in your capable hands, while I take Dief for a quick walk?" 

"Sure, Frase, you want the usual?" 

"That would be fine. We'll be back in approximately 30 minutes." 

I gesture to Dief and we leave for the park as Ray calls Tony's. "Yeah, it's me...what do you mean who? Oh, hardy ha ha. Quit clowning around Sandor, it hasn't been that long..." 

Dief and I take a brisk walk through the park and return in time to see Sandor drive away after making his delivery. He sounds his horn and waves at us, and I wave back. His gesture is entirely wasted on Diefenbaker, I'm afraid, as Dief takes off like a shot for the apartment as soon as he sees Sandor's car. 

I hurry up the stairs, hoping to prevent Ray from giving more than one slice to Dief, and I am only just in time. Both shoot me guilty looks as I catch Ray in the act of dropping a second slice of pizza into Dief's bowl. 

"Hold it right there, the both of you," I say. 

They freeze. 

Ray recovers quickly. "What, Ben?" 

I give them a chance to make a clean breast of it. "Is that the first or second slice for Dief?" 

"First!" they chorus together. 

I simply give them my most stern look, the one that mixes in just a bit of disappointment. 

Ray breaks first. "OK...second." 

Dief looks at Ray and growls, "Traitor." 

Ray turns to him. "What? He would've taken one look in the box and known the truth. I'm just trying to save us both some agony later." 

Dief turns away from us both, obviously upset as Ray puts the slice on his own plate. 

"You can sulk all you want," I say to Dief's turned back, "but you may not have more than one slice...you know that." 

Ray and I settle on the couch to relax and eat dinner. I must say that despite my initial reaction to the idea, I've become strangely partial to pineapple on my pizza. Perhaps Dief isn't the only one going soft in the city. 

The pizza smells a bit off to me, but I can't put my finger on the cause. The taste is also subtly different, perhaps Tony has changed cheese or another ingredient. "Does the pizza taste or smell different to you, Ray?" 

Ray sniffs at his slice and takes a huge bite of it. "No, I don't think so, but then again, I haven't had pizza in so long, I probably wouldn't notice if the toppings were blubber and lichen." He winks and grins to let me know he's kidding. 

I sniff again and the odor is so elusive that it seems to disappear in the next moment. "It may simply be that Tony has changed the brand of cheese he uses." 

"Dief didn't say anything, Fraser, and his nose is as good as yours." 

"You're right. I'd ask him about it, but I don't think he's speaking to me at the moment." 

"Can't help you there buddy, Dief's gonna have to get over it in his own time." 

"Yes...he can be particularly obstinate in these things." 

"Must run in the family," Ray grumbles under his breath. 

"What was that, Ray?" 

"Do you think all wolves hold grudges like Dief does, Frase?" Ray deftly changes the subject. 

"I think if they did there would be a lot fewer people on this earth, Ray." 

"Good point." 

"I'm exhausted this evening. I don't think I've ever welcomed a weekend with as much enthusiasm as this one." 

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I'm feeling really good, Frase. I can't wait to go out tomorrow." He turns to face me on the couch. "What do you want to do?" 

'Sleep,' I think to myself, 'sleep all day.' "I'm not sure, Ray. We shouldn't do anything too strenuous, you still have a week of recuperating to do to satisfy Dr. Lee." 

"You're right, but I want to get out into the park or something. Maybe watch Dief run around. Maybe get some seats for the Cubs game. That's outside and not too strenuous." 

"Do you know what time the game begins, Ray?" 

"Um, hold on." He picks up the sports section from the newspaper. "It's a 1:05 p.m. start." 

"Well, I'm not adverse to seeing the game, we could perhaps leave Diefenbaker with Francesca, if she's available." Dief yips his enthusiastic agreement, he doesn't enjoy professional baseball when they won't allow him onto the field. 

"Cool, you call Frannie. We can get bleacher seats at the park tomorrow." 

I call Francesca, who is more than willing to have a visit from Diefenbaker. She has become a trusted ally since Ray and I told her of our relationship. In fact, she seemed relieved to hear the news. Only a startled, "Oh...that explains that," and then she told us that she considers each of us a brother, for better and worse. I asked Ray what that meant later, but he said I'd find out soon enough. Indeed, within six weeks of Francesca's first child's birth, we were called upon to babysit. Fortunately, the old puffin face never seems to lose its charm. 

Once our plans are made, I make my apologies to Ray and prepare for bed. I find him there before me, naked and pleased to see me and despite my earlier fatigue, we manage to please each other before sleep overtakes us. 

Late Friday Night  
I have the most distressing dream. I find myself back in the mental hospital where Ray Vecchio and I were held while investigating a series of suspicious suicides. This time around however, I am unable to extricate myself from the straight jacket. As the guards come to take us away, I wake up, sweating and crying out for help. 

"Ben, Ben, wake up, you're having a bad dream." The light in our room comes on and Ray is leaning over me. "Are you OK?" 

I find myself in the strange twilight between sleep and full wakefulness. "Ray...Ray...I dreamt I was in a mental hospital...I still can't move my arms...Ray, help me!" 

"Easy, Ben, you've been sweating and coughing all night. I think you caught my flu." He's is carefully unwinding something from around me. 

"What are you doing, Ray?" 

"Ben, you were sweating and coughing all night. Sweating a lot. Then you'd stop sweating and then you'd start up again. Everything was soaked." He looks at me and stops winding. "Are you awake now, Ben?" 

"Yes, I'm awake. What are you doing?" I can feel my boxer shorts and tshirt sticking to me. 

"Well, you were sweating a lot, so I wrapped you up in this towel. Here, sit up a minute." I sit up and he pulls his Bulls beach towel from under my body. "That way the sheets don't get so disgusting." 

Full wakefulness helps me realize that my nightmare was probably induced by Ray's impromptu sweat-collecting method. 

Ray feels my forehead and frowns. "You feel real hot, Fraser, I think you caught my flu." 

I look at Ray and realize he's probably right. 

"But don't worry, I'll take care of you. Doc said I have to take it easy next week anyway. You'll be fine after a week at home." 

I groan and fall back to the bed. I wonder if I can survive an entire week stuck in the apartment with Ray. 

* * *

End Flu Blues by avg_62:

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